


you built me palaces out of paragraphs, you built cathedrals

by youareiron_andyouarestrong



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Courtship, Epistolary, F/M, World War II, excessive use of brackets, letter writing, tina and newt had a REALLY LONG COURTSHIP OKAY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 14:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9076003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youareiron_andyouarestrong/pseuds/youareiron_andyouarestrong
Summary: or Being a Series of Letters Exchanged between Newton Scamander, Magizoologist and Porpentina Goldstein, MACUSA Auror from 1926 to 1945 [as noted by historians]





	

_London, England_

_December 30, 1926_

_Dear Auror Goldstein,_

_Thank you for your letter and your inquires as to my safe return to England. Please reassure your sister Queenie of my (and my creatures) safe return (as well as_ entirely _uneventful, though there was a minor incident with a sea serpent on the trip back--nothing to worry about, I assure you)._

 _On that note, even though it might not please you, I am_ very _happy to hear that our friend Jacob still retains some of his memories of our adventures together--and he has his bakery. I can think of no one worthier of a little good luck--the possible exception being yourself and your sister, of course._

_Regards,_

_Newt Scamander_

 

_New York City, America_

_January 15, 1927_

_Dear Mr. Scamander,_

_My sister and I were very glad to hear of your safe return and look forward to the publishing of your book (Queenie says she has lots of ideas for a title, if you care to hear them, she’ll send you a whole letter’s worth of them). I cannot say I am_ entirely _unworried about what you call “a minor incident” with a sea serpent--but since there hasn’t been any news of any shipwrecks or sudden disappearances on the Atlantic, I can take you at your word. Please do try to be careful, though._

_It might sound strange to stay, but I am very pleased to see that Jacob does have still remember our time together last month. His pastry nifflers are by far one of the most popular treats in the neighborhood and Queenie brings them home every Sunday morning._

_I like to think, Mr. Scamander, we make our own luck. Call it an Americanism._

_Best,_

_Tina Goldstein_

* * *

_Paris, France_

_June 21, 1927_

_Dear Miss Goldstein,_

_When I said in a previous letter I wanted to show you Paris in the spring, the incident last week was not what I had in mind._

_Though I am very glad I got to show parts of it to you anyways--impending doom does rather put a damper on things._

_Dumbledore expressed great concern to me in his last letter that Grindelwald has escaped yet again. I know we did the best we could, but I cannot shake the feeling that_ my _best, at the least, was not good enough. I know Aurors on both sides of the world are doing everything they can, and I wish to help, though my skills and area of expertise admittedly, are quite limited. My brother Theseus warns me seers and diviners are already making prophecies. I pray that nothing will come to pass--and yet can see no alternative. Already there is rumblings in our world and the Muggle--pardon me, No-Maj, of new ideas, new politics, new societies. On the surface, they seem idealistic and idyllic--but leave little room for reality._

_I hope you and your sister are doing well._

_Regards,_

_Newt Scamander_

_New York City, America_

_July 7, 1927_

_Dear Mr. Scamander,_

_Queenie is outraged that I was in_ Paris, _and didn’t manage to do any shopping in the least while I was there and pays no mind to the fact that it’s not as if we could_ afford _anything (or that we were running for our lives). She did calm down a little when I showed her the small book of recipes I bought for Jacob and the cloche I bought for her--though she scolded me for not getting anything for myself, as per usual, in her words. She and Jacob send kindest regard to you, of course._

_As to your concerns for Grindelwald--_

_At this moment, there is nothing we can do about that, and please don’t mistake this for apathy. We have our spheres, you and I, and Grindelwald is the shark swimming outside of them (pardon the insult to sharks, I’m sure some of them must be very nice in comparison).  Sometimes he may strike--and sometimes he may not. The best we can do is be prepared in the meantime. And as for your wanting to be “useful”... your skills and area of expertise saved all of New York, in case you’ve forgotten. And if those skills are not useful for war, well...I don’t think it’s a bad thing at all. Quite the opposite, honestly. Let us worry about what is set before us now._

_I send my_ _~~love~~  _ _best wishes to your creatures and yourself, of course._

_Your friend in New York,_

_Tina Goldstein_

* * *

 

_New Dehli, India_

_September 24, 1928_

_Dear Tina,_

_Work on the book is going well, thank you for asking. I do find myself suddenly understanding what they mean by “an Indian summer,” though many of my creatures are enjoying the heat and sunshine here more than myself. We have just finished cataloguing an entirely new species of water spirits here, similar to the Scottish kelpies. Enclosed are a few sketches--rudimentary, but efficient._

_Philadelphia, America,_

_October 21, 1928_

_Dear Newt,_

_We are in Philadelphia for the yearly meeting of the wizarding senate--Madame Seraphina has asked me to be a member of her personal detail of Aurors. Your sketches are more than efficient--did you ever think of being an artist?_

* * *

 

_Cardiff, Wales_

_March 29, 1929_

_Dear Tina,_

[at the ending of a letter] _...I dreamt of you the other night._

_New York City, America_

_April 15, 1929_

_Dear Newt,_

[the postscript of a letter] _...what did you dream?_

_Edinburgh, Scotland_

_August 15, 1929_

_Dear Tina,_

[the following is a passage in the middle of a letter] _You asked me what I dreamed. I have the same one so oftenly recurring I am beginning to think it is a sign. I dream of a cottage in Dorset, a forest, a hearth, a bed and you in all of these things._

_New York City, America_

_September 1, 1929_

_Dear Newt,_

[another excerpt from the middle of a letter] _Sounds like a nice dream. Shall I tell you one of mine?_

_...I dream of all those things too._

_London, England_

_October 31, 1929_

_Dearest Tina,_

_My book is finally being published. I have the first edition here before me and soon, it and myself, will be in your entirely welcome and capable hands. As soon as I get on the first boat to New York._

[This letter never received a reply, because presumably by then, Scamander had already reached New York.]  

* * *

 

_London, England_

_September 5, 1939_

_Dear Tina,_

_As you know by now, war has been declared between Germany and England, in both worlds, wizarding and Muggle. The Ministry of Magic has already asked if I could accept an assignment, though I cannot say where. There is rumor that Grindelwald, taking advantage of the turmoil, has used the opportunity to use several magical creatures against wizardkind and Muggle alike and that is not the least of his crimes. There is more to tell you--so much more--but I cannot find the time nor the space here. I will do my best to make sure my letters to you continue--to the best of my ability._

_Yours, ever,_

_Newt_

 

_October 25, 1939_

_New York City, America_

_Dear Newt,_

_Please be careful no matter where they put you. Already there is talk of censoring mail._

_...Was that ending comma intentional?_

_Yours, always,_

_Tina_

_November 1, 1939_

_London, England_

_Dearest Tina,_

_I spoke nothing less than the absolute truth._

_Yours, forever,_

_Newt_

* * *

 

_New York City, America_

_April 5, 1940_

_Newt,_

_This is the fifth letter I have sent you and still no reply. Can you at least send a goddamn owl?_

_...Sorry. I don’t mean to shout. But--where are you?_

_New York City, America_

_September 15, 1941_

_Dear Mr. Scamander,_

_If you don’t answer my sister’s next letter (enclosed), there will be hell to pay._

_Best,_

_Queenie Kalowski_

_New York City, America_

_June 3, 1942_

_Is this the end of it then?_

* * *

 

[The following incident was described from several firsthand accounts and eyewitnesses.]

“You selfish, meddling _bastard._ ”

Theseus Scamander looks up from his desk to see his younger brother before him, hair practically standing on end, fists clenched at his side. He’d breathe fire, Theseus thinks, if he could.

Theseus lets his papers slide out of his hands, eyes his little brother warily. Newt possesses truly superhuman reserves of patience and even-temper, but when the occasion actually arises for Newt to lose his temper, he usually does it in some fairly spectacular way. Seeing Newt truly _angry_ is an unnerving sight, reserved usually for some unfortunate creature abused or abandoned--or on behalf of a certain American Auror in New York.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, little brother,” he says as mildly as he can. “What _exactly_ have I been a meddling bastard about?”

Newt practically bares his teeth, the closest thing Theseus has ever seen to a snarl on his brother’s mild face. “ _My letters._ ”

Ah. “Those letters,” Theseus says, realization dawning. Hell, hell, hell, _bloody hell_ \--no wonder Newt’s so incensed.

“You have them,” Newt says, almost vibrating with the intensity of his rage. “My letters from--from Tina. Give them back to me, _now._ ”

Theseus stares impassively at his younger brother, aware of how quiet the office has gotten--every being in the room must be staring at them. “I was doing it for your own good.”

“If I want to have a conversation with Father,” says Newt acidly, “I’ll go to Dorset. As it stands, I won’t tolerate it from you. _”_

“We’re in the middle of a war,” Theseus points out and Newt’s lips peel back from his teeth again.

“I _know_ ,” he spits out. “I’ve been _fighting_ in it, same as you. And right now, the _only_ thing keeping me from cursing you into the nearest _wall_ is the thought it would make Tina--and Mother--unhappy. Now give them to me.”

“You couldn’t become distracted. _She_ was becoming a distraction,” Theseus argues, even as he sees his little brother’s face go red, then white with rage. “Newt, be reasonable--”

“I do _nothing_ but be reasonable!” Newt shouts--his quiet, withdrawn younger brother, who has always retreated into himself and his creatures when faced with difficulties. “I am reasonable when faced with death and horror and atrocities and bloodshed all day long and the only thing, the _only_ thing I have--is her. _She_ keeps me reasonable. _She_ keeps me _sane!_ And if it means I have one single avenue of forgetting this bloody stupid _wretched_ war, then _let me keep it!_ NOW GIVE ME MY LETTERS!”

Utter silence fills the room. Stone-faced, Theseus reaches into his desk drawers and silently hands Newt a thick bundle of letters, all with American stamps. Newt snatches them out of his brother’s hands and shoves them into the inner pocket of his ever-present blue overcoat--he refuses to wear a uniform even now. He turns and leaves without another word, back straight, shoulders back, the most upright Theseus has ever seen him. The slamming of a door makes the walls tremble slightly.

Theseus lets his head fall into his hands, just for a moment, as the office slowly comes back to life again, muttering quietly.

* * *

  _[excerpt from a letter, sent August 15, 1943]_

 _...So you see, that was I hadn’t responded to any of your letters. My brother saw fit to act on my behalf, though it was_ most _unwelcome and unasked for._

 _I know it’s been almost three years since I last responded to your letters. I hope--I_ pray _you will forgive me and understand it was_ never _my intent to hurt or mislead you._

_If...if you don’t wish to hear from me any more, or reply back, if I have left it too long and your feelings for me are no longer the same, I understand._

_It will ruin me, but I will understand._

_Please reply, I beg you._

_Yours, forever, endlessly, hopelessly,_

_Newt_

[It is worth noting that shortly after this letter was received by its intended recipient, a Howler appeared on the desk of Colonel Theseus Scamander, and upon opening, promptly proceeded to send several heartfelt and utterly sincere Polish, Yiddish and Brooklynite curses towards him and cast several unkind aspersions on his parentage, competency, and potency. MACUSA denied any knowledge of such a letter making it’s way through the censorship board.]

* * *

 

_London, England_

_May 8, 1945_

_Dearest Tina,_

_They’re calling it V-Day over here, for Germany’s surrender, both Muggle and wizarding sides. There are people dancing and waving flags in the streets, crying, laughing, kissing, wizards and Muggles alike and no one call tell the difference. I was amongst them myself for a time, and rather felt I was in the middle of a happy hurricane._

_Though we call it Victory Day, the war is not yet truly over, there is the mending and the cleaning up to do--and that, I suspect, will take years, if not lifetimes. But I look forward to it, even now, listening to the joyful, mad celebration outside, because it means we will_ have _a future to look to, and places to mend and new discoveries to make, in all the unexplored places of the world that are still here._

_I would enjoy the celebrations a thousand times more if you were here with me._

_Yours, ever and always,_

_Newt_

_New York City, America_

_June 1, 1945_

_My Newt,_

_Queenie, Jacob and I are getting on the first plane (yes_ plane, _MACUSA is paying for it, Graves insisted) to London, where hopefully, you and I can...talk and...other things._

_I can’t write anymore because my hands are shaking too much and we still have to pack._

_Your Tina_

[It is also worth noting that the marriage of Newton Scamander and Porpentina Goldstein took place exactly twenty days after the last letter (from 1939 to 1945) between them was sent.]       
  

 


End file.
